<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Gathering Storm by MissyLaMiau</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26945047">Gathering Storm</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissyLaMiau/pseuds/MissyLaMiau'>MissyLaMiau</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 17:33:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,886</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26945047</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissyLaMiau/pseuds/MissyLaMiau</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>His life was built on loss and regret, why not let her fire consume him and make him reborn?</p><p>*************</p><p>Lilibeth Rosas is a woman on the run, both from her painful past as from a fierce gang of outlaws.<br/>She had lost everything she once loved and is giving up on the idea of finding a place for herself, until a fortuitous encounter with a stranger gives her a renewed sense of pupose and shows her the ways of true love and freedom.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Abigail Roberts Marston/John Marston, Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character(s), Karen Jones/Sean MacGuire</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Kind words of Relief</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey, guys! This is my first fanfiction work and I'm really excited to share it with you :3<br/>English is not my native language, so please forgive any mistakes you might find along the way. You'll also find a few words and expressions in spanish. I believe they're not complicated to understand within the context, but nonetheless I'll leave the translation at the end.<br/>It's a looong fic, it has taken me a few months to write almost 200 pages and most of it is already written, so I'll try to update once a week.<br/>The story follows the events of the game and even though I avoided rewriting the missions and dialogues, I did borrow some events and phrases and tried to explore them from a different perspective. There are some jumps in the timeline, but it's all indicated at the beggining of each chapter. I tried my best to stick to the personality of the characters we know and love, hope I achieved it.<br/>I truly poured heart and soul in this proyect. Thanks for giving it a go and enjoy! :D</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <strong>(Colter, may 1899)</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>May lashed the land with a blizzard that had not been seen in years. The unforgiving nature of the storm made Arthur consider God's wrath was finally upon them, punishing them for their numerous sins. Perhaps they were riding into the hands of their inexorable destiny. But at the darkest moment, when everything seemed lost and death's shadow was creeping on them, they found light and shelter. Somehow they managed to withstand.<br/>Counting the lost and the fallen, the outcome turned out to be not as atrocious as it seemed during their days wandering in the darkness. Some died, some others were wounded or found on the verge of their demise, but most of them lived, convalescent, gathering strenght to move on.</p><p>After a week of furious wind the snowy mountains of the Grizzlies witnessed sunshine and a blue sky. The cold was persistent but not unbareable like it had been the previous days, creatures could finally come out of their den to verify the world as they knew it was still out there.<br/>Arthur woke up feeling light-headed. For a moment he refused to open his eyes, lying on the old screechy bed he rolled to the side and curled up. The events from the past weeks were slowly setting down on his mind, grief crawling into his heart and the exposure to the merciless elements was taking a toll on his body. His back ached and his belly rumbled, he wished to close his eyes and sleep some more, pretending there was not a goddamn disaster to take care of. In the end, however, he forced himself to get up.<br/>He stretched, cracked his neck and put on the old pair of boots he had been wearing since the flight from Blackwater. Many of his belongings were lost in the confusion and urgency to escape, but he found solace in knowing that almost everyone made it out safely. The gang was still standing and as well as they could be, given the circumstances.</p><p>His stomach roared as he made his way out, hopeful to find something to distract his body from the hunger. Hosea was reading by the chimney and Arthur greeted him with a pat on the shoulder.</p><p>-“Arthur.” A simple word of acknowledgment from Hosea, still with his eyes on the book.</p><p>-“How are you holdin' up, old man? How's that cough?” Arthur stretched his gloved hands and rubbed them together close to the fire.</p><p>-“This weather is doin' me no favors, but it seems to be breakin' now.” Arthur hummed in agreement. “We need food. Maybe you could go scoutin' with Charles..?”</p><p>Not fancing the idea of exposing to frostbite, he mumbled an unconvinced “sure” and left the little comfort of the cabin.</p><p>The sky was open and wind had ceased, so before heading to Pearson's improvised station to check how they were doing in terms of provisions Arthur thought on paying a visit to the group in the other hut. It was the first time since before the escape from the previous camp he had the chance to catch up with the rest of the gang. He considered his responsability to ensure all members' wellbeing, making sure they were fed, in good spirits and their loyalty strong, the weaker links of the gang needing extra assistance -such as Reverend Swanson, little Jack and lately, John Marston-. That man got to be the luckiest bastard he knew, Arthur used to think. John would somehow find a slippery way out of trouble everytime, being the last case a nasty encounter with a pack of wolves that left him scarred for life and half eaten, but very much alive.<br/>Arthur would not admit it openly, but another powerful reason for the visit was to see how John was doing. Although he was his brother, he rather have him not suspecting about his concern for those fresh wounds.</p><p>As Arthur walked in all looks turned to him, and what a gloomy scene he found: a group of women, weak men and a young boy, all covered in several pieces of clothing, their faces pale with dark circles under the eyes. He probably looked the same, he thought. The sorrow of past events was a shared feeling among all members of the family.<br/>The moment he stepped in his eyes unconsciously scanned around on the look for a specific person. He walked around making small conversation with the residents, asking if they needed something, giving encouragement, ruffling the boy's hair. Everyone appreciated his concern and his kind words of relief, except for young Mrs. Adler who had just been turned into a widow and was rescued by Dutch and himself. She couldn't stop crying. Arthur opted to simply tip his hat in her direction, an action that she blatantly ignored.</p><p>He then approached John's makeshift bed. Abigail, his unofficial wife, was sitting by his side.</p><p>-“Do ya come to pity me? Or to lecture me?” John's raspy voice came out bitterly. Half of his face was covered in bandages.</p><p>Arthur scoffed and replied: “Calm down. You hardly have the strenght for that. But it's good to see you're still the same sour son of a bitch we know and love.” Abigail muffled a chuckle and left.</p><p>-“You can say that again.” John replied unenthusiastically.</p><p>Arthur moved towards the chair Abigail just vacated, sat and stared at the younger man. “Wanna talk about what happened?” He motioned at the gruesome wounds on his face.</p><p>-“Not really.”</p><p>-“Mmm...so...how are you feelin'?”</p><p>-“About as bad as I look.” John snapped. “Look, she ain't here. Stop pretendin' you came to see me.” He rolled his eyes and turned his head to the wall.</p><p>Arthur glared at him, but said nothing. Instead, he stood up and gave a last nod of recognition to everyone around and left. Between Mrs. Adler's heartbreaking sobs and the general somber atmosphere, it was enough to plunge him deeper in his upcoming grief. He braced himself before stepping out of the cabin and into the cold, feeling inexplicably disappointed. Aside from checking on everyone, he hoped to run into someone who happened to not be there, and John knew that. The astute bastard knew more than he led to believe.</p><p>As he made his way towards the stable to search for Charles, he noticed a short figure covered with what seemed to be a bear pelt or something of the sort walking in that same direction. He chuckled when he recognized that distinctive way of walking, graceless but determined, and whistled to get their attention. The person stopped and looked around. It was a woman, wearing an oversized fuzzy grey coat -probably lent by one of the guys- and a red scarf covering her whole head, leaving just the main features of her face visible. As soon as she saw Arthur's long blue coat she smiled widely, waiting for him to catch up.</p><p>-“Hey, you. Was begginin' to think we left you back in Blackwater. How you holdin' up, Lily?” He asked, trying to hide the amusement in his voice as he saw the layers of fabric covering the woman from head to knees. Since the disastrous run he barely had any chance to exchange a word with her, and boy did he miss her! Lilibeth was without a doubt the closest person to him in the gang -besides Dutch and Hosea, of course, whom he considered his mentors and parents-. They would often ride together, running errands or hunting, or simply conversing at camp. Being around her was both fun and soothing and he was certain she was equally fond of him.</p><p>Lilibeth looked up to meet his eyes due to their height difference, a grin on her face. Despite the extreme cold, Arthur thought seeing a shade of pink on her tanned cheeks.</p><p>-“You know I wasn't made for this weather. Can't feel various parts of my body and I'm starving. But besides all that I still live, Mr. Morgan.” In a way he couldn't explain, her smile radiated calmness. No matter the circumstances, she was always willing to help in any way she could, not just him but anyone at camp. If he was to face the devil himself, he would gladly do so knowing Lilibeth had his back.</p><p>-“How about you?” She asked in return, her arms folded around herself.</p><p>-“Peachy. Worried about you, though. Half expectin' to find you miserable and turned blue. But apparently, it's just miserable.” He teased. She just shook her head.</p><p>-“I'm tougher than you think. Give me some credit.”</p><p>-“Oh, I know that, Mrs. Rosas. I've seen it with my own eyes.”</p><p>A sudden blow of cold wind unleashead so they hurried to the side of the main cabin, trying to hide from it. Arthur brought out a cigarette from his satchel, lit it and offered it to Lilibeth. She took it in her slender fingers and smoked, her brown eyes narrowed as she did, something she unconsciously did everytime she took the first drag. Arthur found that little gesture particularly endearing.</p><p>-“It's been very dark days. With Jenny gone...she didn't...” She closed her eyes in sorrow. “And Davey. And Sean and Mac...The whole thing seems unreal. We've lost so much in so little time. I can't help feeling...” She said, looking into the distance, into the all white landscape displayed in front of them.</p><p>-“Anxious? You ain't the only one.” He replied.</p><p>She handed the cigarette back to Arthur. He took it and smoked. “I was going to say hopeless, but that too.”</p><p>-“We'll be alright. For all we know, Sean and Mac may still be out there. And the money...we can always make more.” Even though his voice sounded confident, Arthur held the same doubts and concerns in his chest. On top of that, knowing his faith on the gang's project was wobbly produced in him a guilty feeling he couldn't shake off. But he was also determined to do his best to reassure everyone, especially his friend, that things in the end would turn on their favor.</p><p>-“I shouldn't even say this, but...I wonder if Dutch's next move will be good enough to take us out of this deep shit.” Her voice was calm but with a hint of true fear.</p><p>-“Dutch always figures a way. Sure, we've had a streak of bad luck, but we'll make it through.” His eyes turned to her, looking deeply into hers. “Just know whatever happens, we're in this together. Don't ya worry about a thing, alright? I need you strong.” He stated, marking his words in an attempt to give her confidence.</p><p>Lilibeth quietly sighed and nodded, convincing herself that Arthur would never let the gang fall apart. For the time she had known him, he had proven more than capable of protecting and providing for his family, better than any other man. Hell, better than the lot of them together! In a way, he was more of a moral leader than Dutch, or even Hosea. Everyone trusted him and felt protected in his presence, Lilibeth even more so due to the bond they shared: she considered herself his protegeé and close friend. A year and a few months back he had brought her into the gang during her most desperate moment, also taught her to shoot and how to deal with the cruel life of an outcast. In return she directed her loyalty towards him, more than to anyone else.</p><p>After a small moment of consideration, Lilibeth broke the silence: “Are you hungry?” Arthur had just taken a drag and couldn't answer right away. “What a stupid question. Of course you're hungry. I can't remember the last time we had a decent meal...” She rummaged through the contents of the pockets of that huge coat. Arthur looked at her inquisitively.</p><p>-“Please tell me you've got an apple cobbler in there. Or a nice piece of steak..”</p><p>-“Sorry. Ran out of invisible ingredients last night. But here. I was saving this for you.” Lilibeth offered him half of a chocolate bar, carefully wrapped in a handkerchief. Arthur felt his heart flutter for a second as he took the candy and chuckled softly.</p><p>-“Always so thoughtful. Thank you, sweetheart.” He briefly looked at her, her hands inside the pockets as she shrugged, trying to conceal a smile. A delightful sensation ran down her arms all the way to her fingertips whenever he called her by pet names.</p><p>They stood side by side for a moment longer, sharing the cigarette and enjoying their mutual company. After a while, Arthur turned and patted her on the shoulder: “You should be catchin' up with the rest of the girls, get yourself warm. I believe there's a shade of blue growing on those cheeks...” He put a gloved hand on the side of her face, pretending to check on her temperature. She giggled and shove his hand away.</p><p>-“Aren't you a funny man, <em>güero</em>.” He smiled while looking directly at her face before tipping his hat and moving along to find Charles. As he walked away he felt a renewed sensation of hope and realized the gloomy feelings he woke up to were dissipating.</p><p>Lilibeth directed herself to the cabin with a spring in her step. She could still feel a lingering warmth where his hand had been.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. 1600 dollars</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading and enjoy! :D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>(Texas, november 1897)</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Folk would normally stay up drinking and celebrating whenever they had a succesful hit, Uncle or Javier would play their instruments while the rest danced or sang along to the numerous inappropiate songs that formed part of the gang's repertoire. That night, in the midst of all the laughter and cheers, Arthur cautiously minded his drinking, bearing in mind the plans for the following morning: while everyone would still be too drunk or passed out, he would sneak out of camp unnoticed, avoiding questions or more chores from Ms. Grimshaw or Dutch. After the profitable heist pulled off with Hosea and John where no one came out hurt -but not from lack of trying from the opposite party-, he needed time and space for himself. At 34 years, he felt in his bones and soul he was not as young and energetic as he used to be, every mission was demanding more and more from him and all the killing and robbing was pushing down on his moral conscience. Deep down a constant whisper would question his choices and actions, and a hint of fear for the outcome of his life would briefly appear on the back of his mind. Even though he would never say it out loud or talk about it with anyone, he felt tired and lacking of meaning.</p><p>More than anything, he craved for a couple of days of selfish recreation and had his eyes set on a legendary giant buck he had heard of.</p><p> </p><p>The sun was high in the sky as Arthur rode through the great plains of south Texas, enjoying all the smells and colors of the open country unfolding before him. His faithful mare, Boadicea, seemed to enjoy the ride as much, finally free to test her legs and gallop speeds that she couldn't during the previous months.</p><p>After an unfortunate run with the local law -caused by Reverend Swanson's big drunken mouth-, the Van der Linde gang had to seclude themselves in the depths of the forests outside Colorado for over a month. With little to no chance of riding around or make themselves noticeable, Arthur felt like a caged beast, longing for open spaces. It wasn't until september, when things cooled down that they had the chance to sneak into New Mexico and then move to Texas, close to the border.</p><p> </p><p>Determined to enjoy his reclaimed freedom, Arthur seized the first chance he could to scape the monotony of camp with his much trusted companion. Not that he neglected his responsabilities towards the family, on the contrary, he felt the constant need to carry the gang's problems on his shoulders to the point of placing their interest before his own. But from time to time he couldn't help feeling lonely, spent, like he gave it all and got little in return. Often he would yearn for something he could call his own.</p><p>Most times those selfish thoughts would fade as quickly as they came, and he knew there was nothing a good hunting trip in the vast wilderness couldn't fix. For Arthur, the west meant freedom, opportunity, happiness. The sensation of being alive, of standing tall and having every possibility laid spread out for the taking.</p><p> </p><p>He was pondering these thoughts, inspired by the beauty of mother nature and sun's kiss on his skin, when he noticed a figure moving oddly a few hundred meters ahead. Almost camouflaged by the greenish surroundings, he barely distinguised the form of a person. Arthur pressed Boadicea to slow down and have a better look, keeping one hand close to his holster, just in case. As the horse came down to a trot, Arthur made out the shape of a woman, a rather awkward moving one, dressed in a simple green dress, messy black hair in the wind, brown colored skin.</p><p> </p><p>-“Are ya alrigh', madam?” Arthur asked from a distance. The woman stopped waving and came closer to the horse, dragging her right leg with difficulty.</p><p> </p><p>-“Sir! I'm certainly glad you stopped! I've been mugged and I am in desperate need for assistance! Could you please help me?” Despair in her voice, Arthur noticed a slight accent despite the proper words she used. Somewhat reluctant, not sure if trusting the unknown woman that came out of nowhere, he replied:</p><p> </p><p>-“You don't sound like you're from around. Where are ya from, ma'm?” He leaned on the horn of the saddle, analyzing her.</p><p> </p><p>-“I live in the next town, Cotulla. I just need a ride, sir, that's all I am asking.” She held her hands together, pleading. Arthur noticed her face was smudged with dirt, and behind it a pair of big brown eyes that seemed to shine. Was it tears?</p><p>Unsure if he should trust this dark woman, he hesitated. She looked frantically around, like if she was expecting to get ambushed at any moment. Arthur sighed and finally said: “Alright, hop on. I'll take you home...”</p><p> </p><p>The woman's eyes grew bigger and she shrieked her thanks: “Oh, mister! You've truly been sent by heaven! I shall be forever in your debt!” She walked closer to the horse and grabbed the hand Arthur was holding out to help her mount. Impressed by the ease with which he pulled her up in a single movement, she decided not to show it. Instead she held on tightly to his waist as he commanded Boadicea to move on.</p><p> </p><p>After a few moments of polite silence, Arthur decided to inquire: “So...what happened? You said you was mugged...”</p><p> </p><p>-“Unfortunately, sir. I was well on my way to see my mother, she lives in the opposite direction, in Sagredo. She's been sick, you see, her lungs are failing. Definitely not going to last long. The doctor said she might not outlive the year.”</p><p> </p><p>-“Sorry to hear that, ma'm.”</p><p> </p><p>-“Ugh, but she's a one stubborn woman, she is. Tried to convince her to move in with me and my husband, but she won't listen! Anyway... I was riding this deserted road when...” The lady began to quiver. “I was ambushed by a bunch of men. And they...they...oh...” the woman broke in tears. After a brief silence interrupted only by her noisy snorts, Arthur felt wetness on his back. She was crying her eyes out all over his favourite gray shirt. <em>Shit</em>, he thought.</p><p> </p><p>-“Ma'm? Are you..?” He couldn't even finish the question, interrupted by a loud cry.</p><p> </p><p>-“Oh, stop! Please! Stop! I need to collect myself!” Arthur thought that was strange but prefered not to question the odd lady and obliged. As soon as they stopped, she dismounted and hopped with her good leg to a nearby tree to weep uncontrollably. Arthur rubbed the back of his neck, he had little time and patience to deal with this kind of emotional nonsense. She kept her back to him, face concealed in her hands, shaking in sobs. He got off and slowly made his way to where she was, feeling sort of responsible since he had agreed to help.</p><p> </p><p>-“Lady...ehem...is there anything-” Like a wild animal bouncing on its prey, the woman turned around and grasped him by the collar of the shirt and pointed a long gun directly to his throat.</p><p> </p><p><em>-“</em>Yes, as a matter of fact you can do something for me. Give me all you've got, including the horse.” Her voice was completely different, full with authority. Arthur tensed.</p><p> </p><p>-“Eeeaesy there, girl.” He put his hands up. “Don't do anything rushed.” Slowly he removed his satchel and handed it over, along with his revolver, locking eyes with her at all times. Arthur saw fire in her stare.</p><p> </p><p>With a smirk she walked to the horse, carrying the loot and still pointing the gun at him. She climbed with ease, her leg showing no sign of injury or pain. Arthur raised his eyebrows, incredulous at the turn of events.</p><p>Ready to gallop away, she turned to give a last look to the man, his face was the picture of disbelief, like no one had overpowered him that easily before. There was a hint of anger and shame as well. “<em>Adiós, güero</em>. Many thanks for your service.” She grinned, extremely satisfied with herself.</p><p> </p><p>She rode a few meters with Boadicea before Arthur could snap out of his astonishment. Annoyed, he looked up to the sky. “Gimme a break...” he mumbled with his hands on his belt, then mentally counted 1, 2, 3...and whistled. Boadicea, loyal to her master, came to a halt and bucked the woman off. Arthur heard a scream and a loud thud, as her body hit the floor. The mare trotted playfully back to her master who was waiting in the middle of the dusty road. “That's ma' girl” he cooed and patted her softly.</p><p> </p><p>The woman was still lying flat on the ground with her eyes tightly shut, trying to swallow the physical and moral pain, when she sensed a figure standing on top to her. “Nice try, you little rat.” She opened her eyes to see the barrel of a gun pointing directly at her face. She sighed, defeated and humilliated, but said nothing as the man pulled her up to hogtie her. “Lucky for you, I ain't no lady killer.” He mumbled grumpily.</p><p> </p><p>-“Are you taking me to the sheriff?” She asked with no emotion in her voice, almost bored.</p><p> </p><p>-“No.”</p><p> </p><p>He felt her body tense and a cold shiver go down her spine. “Wha-what are you doing with me then?” The calmed tone was all gone and replaced with alarm.</p><p> </p><p>-“I'm leavin' ya right here, missy, to the mercy of the coyotes.” That wasn't entirely true. Arthur was certain she would be found sooner rather than later by another idiot she could fool into helping her.</p><p> </p><p>The woman wiggled and fought as she was carried to the side of the road. “No! No! No! Please, no! I beg you!” Her voice was breaking.</p><p> </p><p>Arthur tsked. “Beg me? Like you begged for help earlier? I don't think so...” He replied sardonically.</p><p> </p><p>-“Please mister!” She sobbed again but Arthur didn't care. As he was turning around to leave she yelled: “I rather have you shoot me right here and now!” For the first time, Arthur noticed true emotion coming from her words. She was in panic.</p><p> </p><p>-“Are you crazy, woman?” He looked at her, puzzled, trying to figure out if it was another trick.</p><p> </p><p>-“If you leave me here... Death would be preferable.” She emphasized each word, her almond eyes showing no tears but imploring. Arthur scratched his beard, exasperated and distrustful. Was he really pitying the woman that just tried to rob him?</p><p> </p><p>-“You rather have me kill you... Why?” He glared at her, trying to read her expressions, making sure he was not being played again. She looked down, in silence. “I'm telling ya, woman, speak or I'll leave you here to rot!” Still no words came out from her. “Have it your way, then.” Arthur muttered and made a move towards his horse.</p><p> </p><p>-“Wait!” He gave her an irritated expecting look. This day had turned into something he definitely didn't want, so much for his plans of freedom and contemplation. “I'm running away from someone... a gang. Bunch of nasty degenerates. They call themselves the O'Driscolls. I don't reckon you've heard of them, mister...”</p><p> </p><p>That name resonated inside Arthur's head like a cannon. “What's your business with those low-life bastards?” His voice came out more aggresive than intended, but he was running out of patience and felt equally confused and curious by this woman. Very few people had been able to hoax him so effortlessly before.</p><p> </p><p>-“I might...have...robbed them...” She mumbled, loud enough for him to hear, though. Arthur opened his eyes with perplexity. It was impossible the woman tied on the floor, short, messy, and pathetic looking, could rob Colm O'Driscoll himself. She showed no particular characteristic impressive enough to...or did she?</p><p> </p><p>-“YOU robbed Colm O'Driscoll?” He pointed at her with incredulity. He laughed a humorless and low laugh, spat on the ground and looked at her again. Her eyes were clear, still intense but true. How easily he could read her now, he thought. “...how much?” He finally asked.</p><p> </p><p>Without hesitation she said “1600 dollars”. Arthur almost chocked, certain he misheard. There was no way in hell she could have robbed a notorious gang that much money and live to tell the tale. He gave her a skeptical look. “Technically, I didn't rob HIM. It was actually my...” She shook her head, like dismissing unwanted thoughts from her mind. “You can see it for yourself, mister. I have the money tied to my right leg.” She pointed with her eyes to the leg that was partially unconvered after she was thrown to the ground. Arthur had not noticed until now but he had to suppress a flash of admiration for those tanned calves. “If you cut the rope, I'll show you.”</p><p>-“You take me for an idiot, miss. You ain't smart but you sure are funny!” He snapped full of sarcasm.</p><p> </p><p>-“Or you can reach and verify yourself. I trust you.” Arthur felt this cheeks get hot and mumbled something not even he fully understood, something among the lines of <em>“the indecency...”</em></p><p> </p><p>After clearing his throat, he turned to check there was no one around and no way for her to escape, and then cut the rope. As soon as she was free, she slightly opened her legs to reveal a small pouch tied to her tigh. Arthur diverted his eyes and lowered his head for his hat to conceal the red shade that covered his whole face. The woman seemed to not notice and with agile fingers opened the pouch to reveal its contents: several bills along with a few jewlery items.</p><p> </p><p><em>Well, I'll be damned, </em>Arthur thought as he gave a low whistle. He considered for a moment and crouched next to the woman, who did not flinch. His mind was made, right then and there, but still had questions that needed to be answered. “What's your name, ma'm?”</p><p> </p><p>-“Lilibeth.”</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. A proposition to make</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello again!</p>
<p>You'll find that throughout the story I reference some movies. Can you find the wink in this chapter? ;D</p>
<p>I hope you are enjoying my silly little story. Thanks for reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>(Texas, november 1897)</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His fingers tapped on the wooden table anxiously as he kept looking around the crowded space. Several minutes have passed since Arthur had ordered two plates of lamb chops with mashed potatoes, and it was not the food he was waiting for but a reason to avoid the unconfortable silence between the two of them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Lilibeth kept her hands and gaze on her lap, dark hair still messy, face smudged and the green dress not only dirty but also torn due to the fall. The unlikely couple was earning some strange looks from the patrons in the Cotulla saloon, but no one dared to investigate or say a word. They probably thought Arthur was the typical angry husband that beat his wife, and knew better than to intervine by the menacing look in the gruff man's face.</p>
<p>In spite of Arthur's frowning expression Lilibeth was not scared but ashamed. He had not only spared her life but also brought her to town and even got her a hot meal, no doubt he was treating her way fairer that she deserved, especially after pointing a gun to his throat and trying to rob him. He was certainly an intimidating man, but probably not as bad as he led people to believe.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Arthur saw her scrambling uncomfortably with her skirt, looking miserable all covered in dirt and bruised, and realized he held no hard feelings towards the woman. He was undoubtly displeased for having his hunting plans ruined, but not even close to being angry. On the contrary, he found himself impressed by her boldness, and overall he was curious.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>After what seemed the longest minutes in Arthur's recent memory, they were finally served steamy plates of food. He noticed Lilibeth fighting the urge to gobble every piece from her own plate and probably his as well. <em>What a sorry sight</em>, he thought, <em>what has she gone through?</em></p>
<p>They ate in silence for a moment, Arthur taking a glimpse every now and then of the lady sitting in front. There was a way in her manners that suggested not only she was not from around, but that she might come from a different breeding than himself and the rest of the delinquents he kept as company.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-“You never gave me your name, mister.” He almost jumped, not expecting to hear her break the silence. In fact, he thought it would be him forcing words out of her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-“Arthur. Morgan.” He replied plainly not taking his eyes from the plate.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-“Thank you, Mr. Morgan.” Her voice was soft, almost tender.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-“Is nothing.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-“No. I mean it. For sparing my life. And for treating me far more decently than most people in this country have...” Her tone was firm, her eyes straight at him, forcing Arthur to look up.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He held her gaze for a moment, then looked down to his beer and finally found the words: “So I was right. You ain't from here.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-“I'm from Guanajuato.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-“Never heard of it.” He stuffed a piece of lamb in his mouth.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-“I wouldn't expect you to.” She chuckled with a subtle sarcastic tone. When she noticed Arthur's frown she cleared her throat and added: “It's a small mining city in central Mexico.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-“Huh... I know someone from Mexico.” Of course, he could recognize the accent.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-“Friend of yours?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-“You could say that. Associate would be the right word.” After giving another gulp to his beer he looked at her again. Her gaze was focused, like if she was trying to study him, it made him feel inhibited. Arthur then cleared his throat, determined to regain the higher ground of the situation.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-“If I may say, you speak english quite well, miss.” He stated nonchalantly, focusing again on the bottle in his hand.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-“Mrs.” She half-smiled.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-“Oh, you're married...” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>-“Widow, actually.” She corrected with a casual inflection and elegantly rested her face on one hand. <em>This woman...</em> Arthur thought. Some unknown reason drew him to uncover the layers of her secrecy, but he wouldn't push it too far. He had a very specific intention for bringing her there.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-“Sorry to hear that. But if you don't mind me askin', about your name... is that a common mexican name?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Lilibeth changed her aloof posture and Arthur could see her tense.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-“That's a long story, Mr. Morgan...” She diverted her eyes to the people on the other tables. Arthur smiled to himself knowing he had hit the right spot.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-“After sparin' you for tryin' to rob and kill me, I'd say your story is the least you owe me, don't ya think, lady?” He grabbed his beer in one hand and pushed himself comfortably onto the back of the chair.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Lilibeth smiled bitterly, playing with the leftovers of her food, bracing herself to open up a to complete stranger than not long ago had her tied down and threatened at gunpoint. She exhaled with resignation.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-“My name is Isabel Rosas Sharpe.” She began with a faint voice. “My mother had me when she was young, and when I was two years old a traveling explorer fell in love with her, an englishman named Thomas Sharpe. He married her and embraced me as his own child. That's why I go with Lilibeth now. See, Isabel is the spanish for Elizabeth. That's how he used to call me.” Her face softened, her eyes sparking with memories.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His full attention was on her, making clear he wanted to hear more and also examining her features: a long and strong nose, small mouth with full lips, and brown almond-shaped eyes. Arthur thought she was not quite as ugly as he had initially considered.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She continued: “He became a respected teacher in Guanajuato, always fighting for the rights of the less fortunate and the indigenous people. Of course, that made him a lot of enemies.” Arthur sensed this story was moving to a darker tone. Lilibeth gulped and continued. “Mother was killed when I was eighteen. They shot her right in our doorstep, as a warning.” Arthur felt a knot in his throat and mumbled a low <em>sorry</em>. Either Lilibeth didn't hear it or she chose not to. “Father decided for us to move up to the border, where we could be safe. And we did, for a while. Until bandits harassed our town, and ended up burning the school to the ground.” Lilibeth exhaled deeply, like if she was exhausted from a lifetime journey. “We moved again, this time to Texas. Father was invited to teach in the state university in San Antonio.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-“So you're a city slicker, an educated woman.” Arthur pointed out, almost accusingly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-“I guess you could say that.” She shrugged. “I speak spanish, english and some french, father taught me to read and write when I was just a young girl. Spent most of my life surrounded by books and listening to his traveling stories and discussions. He even encouraged me to pursuit a career, but... well, as you can see my life gave a significant turn.” Her gaze was lost in thought, fixated on an invisible dot on the table, her mind surely miles away. “Father died a couple of years after that. Tuberculosis. I was twenty four. Left more debts than money. Been moving constantly from town to town for a few months now.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Arthur hummed and carefully questioned: “And about your husband..?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Lilibeth frowned and answered resolutely: “I prefer not to discuss that particular subject, if you don't mind, Mr. Morgan.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-“M'sorry.” Arthur readjusted his seat and gestured the waitress for another beer. “Sounds like you didn't have the easiest of lifes, Mrs. Sharpe.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-“Please, call me Lilibeth, Lilibeth Rosas. I go with mother's family name now, for... reasons.” Her eyes stayed on him for a moment and then diverted to her lap.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-“Fair enough...” Arthur raised an eyebrow with suspicion. “But that still don't explain how you relate to the O'Driscolls.” He looked at her, scanning her reaction.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-“Oh, yes, that.” She said while idly playing with her own fingers.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-“Yeah, that. Why else I'd have ya here, alive and fed?” Arthur purposely used a harsh tone, in an attempt to show himself tough and insensitive.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>After a pause of consideration she stated: “Let's just say I got involved with the wrong person. They associated with the O'Driscolls and that was a path I wouldn't follow.” Lilibeth's eyes went dark, it was clear things have happened that sparked fury in her. “They were given the money for safe keeping, and I took it.” She shrugged. “I was positive they would only beat them but turns out I underestimated what a gang of... bandits were capable of. I've been running for my life since. You found me at my most desperate.” Her eyes locked on to his. She wanted to say more but her best judgment stopped her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A heavy silence fell between them. Arthur scratched his stubble and lit a cigarette, his eyes on the table. Lilibeth kept her brown eyes on him anxiously waiting for a reaction. What was he expecting? What did he want from her? She had no idea who this man was or why was he so interested on her predicament, but somehow she found herself confiding him her wrongdoings. Some of them, anyway. She just prayed this rendezvous wouldn't push her deeper into misery.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Even though her story sounded convincing, he was sure there was more to it, something she prefered to keep hidden. Could it be related to her widowhood? He didn't dare to go further, not for now at least.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Although Arthur never considered himself a believer of pretty much nothing, he sensed in his gut this encounter was not fortuitous. Dutch stood for taking in those misfits running away from their sins or in need for protection, and Arthur suspected in her case was both. Plus, she had a set of skills that could be useful to the gang: an educated audacious woman would make a fine addition to the bunch of delinquents he called family. And maybe, just maybe, Arthur wished to uncover some of the words she left unspoken.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>With the cigarette in hand he leaned closer to her, implying his next words where important enough to be kept confidential. She leaned in as well with expectant eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-“Mrs. Rosas, seems to me you're in some real shit. From experience I can tell those bastards won't forgive nor forget. They're probably comin' for you as we speak.” He spoke in a somber tone, looking directly at her. Lilibeth folded her arms on the table and looked to her side, like a child being scolded. “Luckily for you, I got a proposition to make...”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Lilibeth's eyes grew bigger as she heard the words that followed. Her mind raced and a voice inside her head whispered that maybe it was time to trust again.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>*********************</p>
<p> </p>
<p>With his hunting plans cancelled, Arthur sat on his cot later that night going through the unexpected events of the day. The flaps of his tent were pulled down when he lit the kerosene lamp on his small table and opened his journal to a clean page.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em>Met a woman today. Mexican, high class, quite something. Was on the run from the O'Driscolls after robbin' them blind. Brought her to camp after she tried to rob me as well, which she nearly succeded to do. There's something about her that keeps me second-guessing... Guess we'll see.”</em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. On to a more prosper land</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is a transition chapter, so please bear with me! <br/>Lots of angst and fluff coming soon :3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>(Grizzlies, may 1899)</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The days passed and the weather finally broke. Light shone on the roads as an invitation to a new beggining, uncharting a way out of misery and on to a more prosper land. Everyone seemed to share a hopeful spirit, after a couple of succesful jobs -including a train score they stole from Colm O'Driscoll himself which involved an oil tycoon named Leviticus Cornwall- they had a good amount of money and eagerness to move on, to leave behind the mess and the fatalities that fate brought upon them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>With the firsts rays of sunlight, Hosea announced they were finally moving, and right away Miss Grimshaw began barking orders high and low, her voice could be heard from every corner of the improvised camp, but in this occasion it seemed not to bother folk the way it would normally have. Everyone was excited to leave and willing to help with whatever chores were needed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>In spite of the angst of the past events that had sent Lilibeth into a contemplative somber mood, keeping her in constant reflection of all they had lost and realizing their demise might be closer by the minute, there was one single thing that helped her cope with the grief and anxiety she could barely hold in. Never in her life had she seen snow, and at first she was utterly fascinated by the spectacle -the beautiful scenery of the mountains covered in white and the snowflakes that delicately landed on her hair and hands mesmerized her- but as the gang moved higher and the ground became thicker, her initial fascination turned into annoyance. Soon the coldness, hunger and the general somber mood made her miserable. On top of that, the lack of suitable clothing for the weather kept her coiled on herself and on the verge of tears, until Charles took pity of her and lend her his coziest coat. Although she had inherited the romantic spirit of her father, she definitely looked forward to get out of those mountains.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That's why as soon as she heard Miss Grimshaw's booming roar she got up in one jump and dressed quicker than usual, shaking off the tiredness and the cold that penetrated all through her bones, grabbed a cup of coffee and an apple for breakfast and readied herself for a morning of packing. People were working, coming and going, like ants. While helping Tilly move some crates into one of the wagons she got a glimpse of Arthur standing next to Hosea and Dutch, deep in what seemed to be a serious conversation. His blue eyes diverted to her for a moment and he nodded slightly as greeting, she smiled in return which earned a knowing raised eyebrow from Tilly. She pretended to be too busy to notice.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The whole gang's belongings -which were considerably fewer since the run out of West Elizabeth- were almost all packed and folk were impatient. Lilibeth was ready to take a break and light a cigarette when Abigail came up to her: “Lily, would you be a dear and help me take John to the wagon? I'd ask one of the boys but they all seem terribly busy.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-“Sure thing.” She put the smoke away. “Two young strong women won't need a man to handle that.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-“I don't think John agrees with your philosphy.” Abigail giggled as they walked to the cabin.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-“In that case he can crawl.” She replied cheekily.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When they entered the shack they found John fully dressed and sitted, holding his left arm right were he had been shot. He didn't seem to share the same cheerful spirit as the rest of them, after days of lying flat and been tended made him feel useless, like a burden.</p>
<p>Lilibeth have learned to appreciate John through the last months, after he gradually opened up to her she discovered that behind the raw exterior there was man eager to prove himself. He may not be the most charming or commited to his responsabilities, but he was generous and caring in his own grouchy way. She had found that undearneath the careless facade he truly loved his family, both the one he grew in as the one he formed, and unlike Arthur who couldn't entirely forgive him for running off on the gang and his family, she gave him the benefit of the doubt. <em>He came back, didn't he? We all deserve a second chance, </em>she told him once. Arthur didn't appreciate the comment.</p>
<p>In return for her good will towards him, John respected her and showed his esteem in a particular way.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-“John! It's so nice to see you up and about. How do you feel?” She asked with a wide smile, trying to lighten the mood.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-“Worthless. Being manhandled and nursed like a baby.” He replied bitterly. Abigail rolled her eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-“Babies are cute. You look nothing like one.” She teased. “Besides we need you healthy and strong, and if that means being carried around when you're injured, then so be it. Come on, you can lean on us for support.” John grumbled but seeing he had no other choice he stood up and grabbed both girls by the shoulders, letting most of his weight fall on them. “See? It's not that bad! Or would you prefer a man to take care of you?” Lilibeth teased further with a raised eyebrow.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-“Well, Lily, you're awfully close to being one.” He taunted her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Abigail gasped and cried: “John Marston! Apologize right now!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Lilibeth huffed and dismissed it. “No harm done. I know it's just the werewolf in him speaking. He loves me, really.” She said cheekily.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-“Yeah, like an annoying little sister.” He replied unenthusiastically.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-“Excuse me! I'll remind you I am two years older than you. So respect your elders.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As they walked out of the cabin, Javier saw the pair of ladies dragging a sour looking John and came to help, taking Lilibeth's spot. She thanked him and walked away, discreetly massaging her left shoulder where John was gripping on with a bit too much force. She then approached the coach where her belongings were supposed to be packed, when suddenly she felt her hat being lift from her head. She turned to see Arthur's smirk.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-“Hey! Give it back!” She stood on her toes to reach for it while Arthur kept it in one hand way above her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-“This ol' and ugly thing? Where did you get it from anyway?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>-“An old and ugly friend gave it to me. Now if you don't mind...” Arthur chuckled and put the hat back on her. He then grabbed her shoulder affectionately and squeezed a bit. Lilibeth let out a small whimper.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-“What happened there?” Arthur's voice showed some concern.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-“Nothing. I just had to carry dumb John to the wagon...” She said as she massaged the sore area.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-“Why didn't you ask me or one of the guys?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-“No need, Abigail and me got it. Though he wasn't thrilled. His masculinity felt threatened for being helped by girls.” Lilibeth explained matter-of-factly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Arthur laughed out loud. “A fragile young man, he is.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Lilibeth giggled and sat on the back of the wagon while lighting a cigarette. “That seemed serious. Everything alright?” She said refering to the conversation Arthur had held with Hosea and Dutch.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-“Sure. Just details about our next stop.” Arthur leaned next to her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-“Oh! So where to?” She smoked and offered the cigarette to him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-“Where would ya like to go?” He accepted it and took a drag.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-“Anywhere?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-“Anywhere you want, m'lady...”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A shy smile formed on her lips. “Paris.” She replied without hesitation.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Arthur chuckled. “Guess we can try. Ain't sure the wagons'd make good boats, but why not.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-“Meh. You'd hate the french anyway.” She shrugged. “How about... Mexico?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-“You've talked so much about it now I really wanna go there.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Her face lit up for a moment. “Let's go, then. I know a place...”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-“Perhaps one day.” Arthur smiled and Lilibeth diverted her eyes down. “Anyway, who are you ridin' with?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-“The Marstons, actually. Abigail needs more company than the sourpuss of her husband, and I can use the opportunity to practice with little Jack.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-“Mr. Morgan! Mrs. Rosas! Would you kindly leave your conversation for another day? We're leaving this hellhole! Everyone! Get ready!” The potent voice of Dutch announced their departure and everybody took their place on the lines and wagons.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Before rushing, Arthur turned to her and said: “See you there. Take care, alrigh'?” Lilibeth nodded and ran to the wagon, crawling next to Abigail and her son.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Arthur mounted next to Hosea. Despite the great affection he felt towards his mentor he immediately realized he'd prefer to be riding along Lilibeth, listening to stories of her birthplace, the places she'd seen, her explorer father's adventures around the continents or simply hearing her sing. During his lone times, when his mind would wander, Arthur would feel genuine amazement at how easily he bonded with Lily. Even though his heart was set on the gang and he loved and cared for every single member (except for Micah and maybe a couple others) his feelings for her were stronger, deeper. She gave him peace of mind, probably the reason he found himself thinking of her often. Their friendship was the most real thing for him in that moment, the only part of his life that made complete sense.</p>
<p>Arthur cleared his mind and dismissed all thought of her. He needed to stay focused. There would be plenty of time to delve on reveries.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>*********************************</p>
<p> </p>
<p>After a while of going through the alphabet and vocabulary lessons with Jackie, the boy fell asleep on his mother's lap. Lilibeth chatted with Abigail for an hour or so, for weeks she'd been trying to convince the young mother to join her reading classes, but she was too reluctant or self-conscious to accept. They talked quietly, careful not to disturb John, who kept his eyes closed either because he was asleep or to avoid conversation.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gradually, Lilibeth noticed more and more green in the scenery. She peeked through the canvas protecting the coach and saw that the snow was now only visible on the mountains in the distance. In their stead, leafy forests of cedar and pines extended on the horizon as far as she could see. Bewildered at the view she moved to the back of the coach and sat there with her legs hanging from the edge. In moments like these her chest would overflow with a drive to seize all the beauty surrounding her. She wished she had the same ability and talent as Arthur to illustrate what her eyes saw but could not grasp.</p>
<p>However she might not had the hand for drawing, she did possess a talent for words. Frecuently she would write down her thoughts and memories (in spanish, of course, as she and maybe Javier would be the only ones to understand them), inspired by Arthur's own habit. In fact, it was him who got her her own journal. One night, both sitting by the campfire Lilibeth mentioned how she used to enjoy writing little poems and ideas about the topics she found interesting during her younger years. The next day Arthur came back to camp with a little parcel and gave it to her when he thought nobody was looking. As a reward he got a wide smile and a peck on the cheek, as well as the incessant teasing comments from his fellow male members. He thought it was worth it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>While her legs hanged from the edge of the wagon and the fresh smell of the trees and wild flowers filled her lungs, she was seized by an optimistic presentiment that things were finally changing for them. Such as the coldness and the misery they were leaving in the mountains, so they were turning their backs on that tragic episode of their story and moving on. What would be next for them?, she wondered.</p>
<p>As she meditated on the previous days and the sorrow they had been through, she felt a small body crawling to her side. Jack sat down next to her and clasped her arm with his.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-“How are you, <em>pequeño</em>?” Lilibeth asked looking down at him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-“I'm bored, aunt Lily. Are we there yet?” He asked with a sleepy voice.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-“Close now, little feller. Can you see the snow aaaall the way up there? Can you believe we were that high up?” She pointed a finger at the mountains.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-“I liked the snow but not the cold. Are we moving somewhere cold or hot?” He inquired.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-“I believe it's a point in between. Just how I like it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jack considered hard for a moment. “Where you lived before, was it hot or cold?” The kid felt curious about Lilibeth's past, he found especially unimaginable a place were people speak a different language.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Lilibeth smiled at the memory of her hometown. “It was warm and sunny during summer, and cold but not too much during winter.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-“Auntie, will you take me there some day? I wanna see your house.” Lilibeth felt her heart crush for a second at the remembrance of the things that were, but dismissed the growing thoughts on her mind. She wouldn't show signs of sadness in front of the boy. Since she joined the gang and assumed her role as the camp teacher, she made it her mission to cheer Jack's life as much as possible, trying to show him a brighter side of the world, aside from the robbing and killing that was a natural part of the gang's lifestyle. She would think back on the way his dear father taught her, with love and understanding, and take that as a reference to teach Jack and whoever else that wished to learn. Thinking in retrospective, if her life had not gone so horrible astray she would have probably pursued a career as a teacher. Not like it mattered now, her life was this, and her heart was set right there with the ones she loved.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Lilibeth smiled to the boy and said: “Perhaps one day I'll go back. And if that's the case I'll bring you along for vacations, how about that?” She ruffled his hair “Now. Let's practice those spanish words I've been teaching you, shall we?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>*pequeño: small, little</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>*güero: blonde, someone of white skin</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>